


Good morning!

by 0strawberry_plant0



Category: Clone High
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Sex, but she’s not like a big part, i don’t know what tags to use, joan is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 09:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30086652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0strawberry_plant0/pseuds/0strawberry_plant0
Summary: Vincent Van Gogh wakes up in JFK’s house hungover and prays that nothing happened between them...
Relationships: JFK/Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High)
Kudos: 10





	Good morning!

Vincent slowly opened his eyes. For the first time in a while he woke up well rested. He had a pounding headache though. He opened his eyes wider and that’s when he realized he was not in his own bedroom. Gosh, Vincent couldn’t remember  _ anything  _ from last night…

There was an overwhelming scent of sweat, cheap cologne, and pizza. Oh god… Vincent knew where he was. JFK’s bedroom. Quickly, he sat up and looked around the huge room for him. His gaze caught on a desk in the corner where John sat hunched over in an office chair typing away at a desktop computer. Vincent groaned. He hoped- no  _ prayed  _ that he hadn’t gotten drunk and slept with JFK. There had to be another explanation. But he knew deep down in the tiniest corner in his mind… that there wasn’t.

Vincent stretched and yawned, which caught JFK’s attention. He turned around in his chair and smiled sweetly at Van Gogh. “Morning Van!” He chirped. Vincent hopped out of his bed and shuffled over to him, an action that took a surprising amount of effort. His legs ached, his head throbbed, and it felt like he could just collapse at any second. Luckily when he reached John’s chair the larger boy caught him before he did. “Woah! I er uh really did a number on you, huh?” JFK chuckled.

“Don’t be an ass…” Vincent groaned. JFK seemed a little surprised. Vincent was usually a quiet guy. Always buried in his sketchbook or homework. But people knew that he was pretty irritable. Most people assumed that he was just mean, but it was most likely the depression. “Just… tell me what happened last night. I don’t remember a thing.”

“Can do, Vinny-boo. You were uh at my party and you were drinking pretty hard. I mistook ya for a broad and er offered to sleep with ya’s. You threw down your cup and said  _ hell yes!  _ so being the er uh gentleman I am, I immediately took you to my bedroom.”

Vincent felt like he could vomit onto JFK’s charming, iconic red sweater. JFK must’ve seen the queasiness in Van Gogh’s face because he asked, “Do ya need to sit down, Van?” 

Vincent nodded slowly. Without a second thought (which really should’ve happened) John picked up Van Gogh and set him down onto his bed. “Augh! Hey! D-don’t pick me up!”

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry! It’s just you looked so sick. I didn’t want you to fall down on your way!” JFK added with a laugh. Vincent never quite liked touching. His parents did nothing but worsen that dislike. Being picked up was a huge no and everybody that knew Vincent personally knew that. JFK continued, “So we er uh had sex and I-I gotta say, Van, you are quite rough for someone of your size and someone so quiet.” 

“God I wish I were sober for that.”

“Well we can always-“

“ _ Because it hurts now.  _ As if I would  _ want  _ to have sex with some dumb jock twice my size.”

JFK seemed a little upset. “Y… you didn’t mean that… did you?”

Vincent was surprised that he had been hurt by the comment. Mostly people didn’t care about the things he said. He had gotten used to that. But the most _ popular guy  _ at Clone High really cared about his passing comment? It made him feel weird… it made him feel… seen.

“No… god, I’m sorry. It’s just this fucking hangover-“

“Oh! Where are my uh manners? Can I get you anything? Coffee, hangover pill, breakfast?”

All of that sounded great to Van Gogh. He certainly wasn’t used to being offered coffee or breakfast by anybody. Usually his morning routine was wake up, brush teeth, pack bag, put on coat, get to the bus stop. If there was time he’d make a quick cup of coffee or clean up the house a little bit so he wouldn’t be berated by his parents when he got home in the afternoon. “Yeah um could you get me a cup of black coffee and a hangover pill? If it’s not too much trouble.”

JFK gave Vincent a funny look. “Why would it be any trouble at all? I’ll go er get it for you. Just stay here and try to not get up too fast, mkay?” 

Van Gogh nodded. JFK snapped and made finger guns at him before walking out the door.

Before this Van Gogh had never really interacted with JFK. Every once in awhile they’d get seated next to each other in a class, or Vincent would ask for a pencil, or JFK would the subject of his sketch page. But they had never interacted as anything more than classmates. Van Gogh just knew his place in the school hierarchy. Which, unfortunately, was all the way at the bottom. 

From what he could remember of last night was that Joan and Abe had gotten into a spat (they seemed to do that a lot, Vincent couldn’t care enough about the topic to pick either side) and Joan had gotten invited to JFK’s party. Vincent was probably the second person she thought to bring with her since Cleo was busy. Van Gogh had never actually been to a party before, aside from the time he had to go to find something to humiliate Gandhi for. I remembered getting out of the car and seeing teens dancing and vomiting everywhere, but then my mind went blank.

The part about him and JFK having sex was a little clearer in his mind, but a by lot. Honestly, Van Gogh didn’t even know that JFK liked men. He did mistake him for a girl at first, a  _ broad  _ as he had put it, but he would’ve had to figure out his actual sex at some point. Vincent didn’t really even care. Who would? JFK just fucks whoever he can. It’s not his place to know what genitals they have.

Pretty soon John was back with his coffee and two tablets in his hand. Vincent quickly swallowed the dry pills and washed them down with coffee.

For a few moments everything was silent. Van Gogh finished his coffee and JFK took the cup to set it on the nightstand. Vincent just assumed that he needed to leave now. He got off of the bed, feeling slight better even if not by a lot, and put on his dark blue coat. He started walking to the door when JFK said, “W-wait!”

“Can I help you?”

“Look… I er uhh know it was just a hookup and we were both tipsy,” tipsy was an understatement. “but last night was fun… and I’d love to see you again sometime.”

“As… like… another hookup?”

“Maybe. Or maybe as something… m-more?”

Vincent thought for a moment. His whole life he had had this overwhelming sense of loneliness and sorrow. JFK seemed fun and refreshing for him. And plus, having the most popular guy at school and captain of the football team as a friend could be… beneficial.

“I’m always in your track team.” Van Gogh said. With that, he walked out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Two? It’s more likely than you think.


End file.
